


Simple. Easy. Perfect.

by GoodIdeaAtTheTime



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Christmas fic, M/M, Napping, Sleepy smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 06:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13184190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodIdeaAtTheTime/pseuds/GoodIdeaAtTheTime
Summary: Quatre asked for a peaceful, easy Christmas, and Trowa was pleased to deliver.For the Gundam Wing Secret Santa gift exchange 2017





	Simple. Easy. Perfect.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HoneySempai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneySempai/gifts).



There wasn’t any snow.

The Christmas tree was fake, decorated with a string of lights and a handful of baubles.

The turkey was a crown, bearing no resemblance to the bird it had once been.

But it was perfect.

Quatre’s request for the holidays this year was that it be quiet, simple and easy. And Trowa took it upon himself to provide.

The apartment they were all in was just outside of the centre of the small town, easy walking distance if they needed to get supplies, but quiet enough that you couldn’t hear the noise from below. On the 4th floor of an old Victorian hotel, they were high on a cliff, with the road and promenade the only thing between them and sea views. Whilst the road followed the cliff around to a curving slope into the valley where the river mouth met the ocean, and the town which had built up around the small fishing port there once upon a time, their building was just on the edge of town, where the houses thinned out into bigger, more expensive homes, and then countryside until the next village a couple of miles down the coast.

It was wet, and windy, and the town was quiet - mostly known for its quirky festivals in the summer, with the fishing trade long relocated to bigger ports nearby, it wasn’t exactly a peak destination for Christmas.

It was perfect.

The five of them had piled into the apartment - and paused, pleased at how warm it was for how cold the hallways had been. Whilst the communal areas of the building were old and worn, bursting through the door into the apartment had been like stepping through time. Beautifully carpeted and insulated, there was so much space, and so many windows, with so much light, and a set of stairs that curled up to a bedroom that was directly in one of the four towers on the corners of the building. Every window showed the sea, grey and still, stretching out to meet the sky which often started the days blue and bright, but by lunchtime was often grey too.

Usually drizzly, often windy, there was absolutely no incentive to leave, so they battened down the hatches and curled up. Shut themselves away from the rest of the world with books, and games, and movies; good wine, good food, good company. No expectations. Quiet. Simple. Easy.

By the second day, the stress wrinkle between Quatre’s eyebrows had disappeared. By the third day, he had stopped rubbing at the ever present ache in his shoulders. By Christmas Day, when he blinked awake slowly in bed beside Trowa, stretching and humming in satisfaction, the dark smudges under his eyes had all but disappeared, blue eyes eyes looking bright and well-rested for the first time in months.

“Happy Christmas,” Trowa greeted him.

“Happy Christmas.” The smile was sleepy, relaxed, and blissful.

“There was a rumour you’d been nice this year,” Trowa murmured, leaning in for a kiss, “so someone dropped off some packages for you.”

“Must be a mistake,” Quatre said, smiling into the kiss, “I’ve been thoroughly awful all year. They must be misdirected. We should send them back at once.”

“Ah, see, that means you’re nice at heart, so you probably deserve them.”

“Oh! A test! Underhanded.”

“You passed with flying colours.”

“Of course I did, I’m excellent at tests.”

He sat up, stretching again, and swung his feet out of the bed and into his slippers. Trowa propped his head in his hand and watched him, enjoying seeing him in this bubble of isolation from work and stress. He always seemed lighter, taller.

Happier.

Quatre glanced over his shoulder, raised an eyebrow at the man behind him.

“Are you coming? I heard there were presents.”

Trowa pushed himself upright.

“Lead on.”

  
  


*

 

Duo was already in the kitchen when they came downstairs, cooking pancakes for them in his PJs and an extra long Santa hat, almost as long as his braid. Wufei was perched behind him on the window seat, hands curled around a cup of tea and watching the sea roll up the beach below. Through the doorway, they could hear Heero rustling around in the living room.

“What’s he doing?” Trowa asked.

“Arranging the presents into piles by who they’re for,” Duo said with a grin, sliding two pancakes onto the plate beside him and pouring more batter into the pan. “I mixed ‘em up last night after he went to bed. Keeps him busy.”

Wufei snorted quietly and sipped his tea.

By the time all the pancakes were done and taken through to the dining table, Heero was coming up the step from the living room, looking satisfied, but not above shooting Duo a look that clearly said he knew exactly who had rearranged things from the night before.

“It was Santa, man, not me,” Duo said, flicking the cap off the syrup and pouring it generously over the pancakes on his plate. “You gotta take it up with the big guy.”

“Presents don’t have to be a military operation, you know,” Quatre told Heero. “It’s okay to be a little chaotic at this time of year.”

“If we spend more time opening presents, we have less time for doing other things,” Heero said, scooping blueberries onto his pancakes. “Maximising time means we have more allowed for other activities.”

So, breakfast was finished and then they were shepherded down to the living area, whilst Wufei and Duo cleared the table before joining them. Quatre and Trowa were ensconced on a small sofa together, sinking into the cushions and against each other as Heero divvied up the gifts with maximum efficiency, while Duo and Wufei returned, watching him with no little amusement.

Trowa watched Quatre, openly and with great pleasure, how relaxed he was, how happy. Contentment glowed through him, gentle and warm, and Trowa basked in it, soaking it up like he was sun-starved.

It was perfect.

  
  


*

 

There was nothing required from them all day.

Duo, Wufei and Heero managed everything, furnishing them with coffee when presents were opened, and starting on lunch, the three of them a well-oiled machine as always.

No expectations, no pressures.

Quatre sat and enjoyed his book for an hour, with his coffee, before a leisurely shower.

The day passed in a lazy, blissful haze. Everything easy, everything undemanding.

Everything Quatre asked for.

After lunch - well-fed, well-watered - Quatre and Trowa went for short walk, down to the promenade, letting the sea air freshen them and blow away the cobwebs.

It was quiet on the seafront, handfuls of people scattered around, walking small dogs and small children.

“It’s wonderful here,” Quatre said, leaning against the railings and watching the waves, breathing in deep the smell of saltwater and seaweed, the cool breeze reddening his cheeks, his nose, touselling his hair. His eyes were sparkling. “I wish we could stay forever.”

He looked wonderful. Healthy.

“Me too,” Trowa said, arms folded on the railing, tilting his head to look up at his boyfriend. “Let’s do it.”

Quatre laughed, reached out his hand, cold, and pressed it against Trowa’s cheek. Held it there, dimple in his cheek, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled down at him.

By the time they got back to the apartment, the next bottle of wine had been opened, the dishes had been done, and Duo was dozing on the sofa, feet on Heero’s lap, resting his head on a cushion on Wufei’s thigh. Heero was watching the tv, Wufei reading, the three of them looked very settled.

Trowa couldn’t blame them.

A nap sounded like a wonderful idea, and Quatre required very little coaxing up the stairs to their room.

Ever the gentleman, Trowa did not hesitate to step in and help with the buttons on his shirt, lips ghosting over the exposed skin, following the path of his hands with dedicated care and attention. Quatre’s stomach vibrated with a chuckle as Trowa’s mouth skimmed across it, fingers threading into his hair.  

Pants followed next, and then Quatre sat on the edge of the bed, Trowa kneeling in front of him and performing his own Christmas prayer, lips and tongue over hot flesh, drawing gasps and moans from above. Gentle, leisurely, he indulged, taking his time and tasting, exploring, savouring.

Then he was tugged up, into a kiss, and Quatre’s hands were pushing his clothes out of the way, pulling him closer, over and onto the bed.

Skin whispered over skin, and bodies slid against each other, familiar and wonderful. They sank into each other, words exchanged for eloquent touches.

It was wonderful to have the time, the energy, to be so indulgent, to stoke the fires slowly, hedonism, it felt like. Glorious hedonism to be together, like this, in the middle of the afternoon - no pressures, no expectations, no appointments.

Simple. Easy. Perfect.

When, eventually, they let each other fall, arms entwined, whispering intense nonsense until they were spent, chests heaving, slick with sweat and limbs heavy with bliss and fatigue.

It took a moment to rouse the energy to untangle, to clean each other off, and to slide under the covers as they had told the others they were going to. They fitted together perfectly, chest to back, feet tangled, Trowa’s arm across Quatre’s chest. The heaviness moved to his eyes, and he felt himself slipping, slipping away.

“I’m thinking of appointing some CEOs,” Quatre murmured sleepily, “to manage different areas of the company. So we can take more time, like this.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think things have recovered enough since I took over that I can.”

“Good. Let’s never leave then.”

A breathy chuckle, and then warm, wonderful sleep.


End file.
